Arthur Weasley and the Not So Deadly Veil
by Eril'nor
Summary: Instead of Sirius Black, Arthur Weasley falls through the veil instead, meeting an inventor with a passion for cars... To my knowledge, the only AW focused story out there. Might be more than a one-shot depending on reviews. I can't summarize to save my life.
1. Chapter 1

**So yeah. My first FF story in a few years. This might be a proper story depending on how much people like it, but it'll probably be a one-shot or something. Don't worry about grammar and spelling; I'm fairly proficient in writing the English language, as it's my first language. Formatting might be a problem, though. Let me know if you see any mistakes.**

 **Anyway, on with the story! Also, Ron and Neville's positions are swapped for the sake of the plot.**

* * *

"DON'D GIB ID DO DEM!" roared Ron, who seemed beside himself, kicking and writhing as Bellatrix drew nearer to him and his captor, her wand raised. "DON'D GIB ID DO DEM, HARRY!"

Bellatrix raised her wand. " _Crucio!_ "

Ron screamed, his legs drawn up to his chest so that the Death Eater holding him was momentarily holding him off the ground. The Death Eater dropped him and he fell to the floor, twitching and screaming in agony, broken nose askew, and with blood poring from his nostrils.

"That was just a taster!" said Bellatrix, raising her wand so that Ron's screams stopped and he lay sobbing at her feet. She turned and gazed up at Harry. "Now, Potter, either give us the prophecy, or watch your best friend die the hard way!"

Harry did not have to think; there was no choice. The prophecy was hot with the heat from his clutching hand as he held it out. Malfoy jumped forward to take it.

Then, high above them, two more doors burst open and six more people sprinted into the room: Sirius, Lupin, Moody, Tonks, Kingsley, and, surprisingly enough, Arthur Weasley.

Malfoy turned and raised his wand, but Arthur had already sent a Stunning Spell directly towards him, accompanied with a shout of "LEAVE MY SON ALONE!"

Harry did not wait to see whether it had made contact, but dived out of the way. The Death Eaters were completely distracted by the appearance of the members of the Order, who were now raining spells down upon them as they jumped from step to step toward the floor: Through the darting bodies, the flashes of light, Harry could see Ron crawling along. He dodged another jet of red light and flung himself flat on the ground to reach Ron.

"Are you okay?" he yelled, as another spell soared inches over their heads.

"Yeah mate," said Ron, trying to pull himself up.

"And Neville?"

"I dink he's all right — he was still fighding the brain when I left —"

The stone floor between them exploded as a spell hit it, leaving a crater right where Ron's hand had been seconds before. Both scrambled away from the spot, then a thick arm came out of nowhere, seized Harry around the neck and pulled him upright, so that his toes were barely touching the floor.

"Give it to me," growled a voice in his ear, "Give me the prophecy —" The man was pressing so tightly on Harry's windpipe that he could not breathe — through watering eyes he saw Sirius dueling with a Death Eater some ten feet away. Kingsley was fighting two at once; Tonks, still halfway up the tiered seats, was firing spells down at Bellatrix, and Arthur was fiercely dueling Lucius Malfoy — nobody seemed to realize that Harry was dying. . . . He turned his wand backward toward the man's side, but had no breath to utter an incantation, and the man's free hand was groping toward the hand in which Harry was grasping the prophecy —

"AARGH!"

Ron had come lunging out of nowhere: Unable to articulate a spell, he had jabbed Hermione's wand hard into the eyehole of the Death Eater's mask. The man relinquished Harry at once with a howl of pain and Harry whirled around to face him and gasped, " _STUPEFY!_ "

The Death Eater keeled over backward and his mask slipped off. It was Macnair, Buckbeak's would-be killer, one of his eyes now swollen and bloodshot.

"Thanks!" Harry said to Ron, pulling him aside as Sirius and his Death Eater lurched past, dueling so fiercely that their wands were blurs. Then Harry's foot made contact with something round and hard and he slipped — for a moment he thought he had dropped the prophecy, then saw Moody's magic eye spinning away across the floor.

Its owner was lying on his side, bleeding from the head, and his attacker was now bearing down upon Harry and Ron: Dolohov, his long pale face twisted with glee.

" _Tarantallegra!_ " he shouted, his wand pointing at Ron, whose legs went immediately into a kind of frenzied tap dance, unbalancing him and causing him to fall to the floor again. "Now, Potter —"

He made the same slashing movement with his wand that he had used on Hermione just as Harry yelled, " _Protego!_ "

Harry felt something streak across his face like a blunt knife but the force of it knocked him sideways, and he fell over Ron's jerking legs, but the Shield Charm had stopped the worst of the spell.

Dolohov raised his wand again. " _Accio Proph —_ "

Sirius hurtled out of nowhere, rammed Dolohov with his shoulder, and sent him flying out of the way. The prophecy had again flown to the tips of Harry's fingers but he had managed to cling to it. Now Sirius and Dolohov were dueling, their wands flashing like swords, sparks flying from their wand tips —

Dolohov drew back his wand to make the same slashing movement he had used on Harry and Hermione. Springing up, Harry yelled, " _Petrificus Totalus!_ " Once again, Dolohov's arms and legs snapped together and he keeled over backward, landing with a crash on his back.

"Nice one!" shouted Sirius, forcing Harry's head down as a pair of Stunning Spells flew toward them. "Now I want you to get out of —"

They both ducked again. A jet of green light had narrowly missed Sirius; across the room Harry saw Tonks fall from halfway up the stone steps, her limp form toppling from stone seat to stone seat, and Bellatrix, triumphant, running back toward the fray. Sirius quickly switched opponents to Lucius Malfoy, keeping him occupied as Arthur moved to protect his son.

"Harry, take the prophecy, grab Ron, and run!" Arthur yelled, running past them to meet Bellatrix, Lucius Malfoy forgotten. Harry did not see what happened next: Kingsley swayed across his field of vision, battling with the pockmarked Rookwood, now mask-less; another jet of green light flew over Harry's head as he launched himself toward Ron — '

"Can you stand?" he bellowed in Ron's ear, as Ron's legs jerked and twitched uncontrollably. "Put your arm round my neck —" '

Ron did so — Harry heaved — Ron's legs were still flying in every direction, they would not support him and then, out of nowhere, a man lunged at them. Both fell backward, Ron's legs waving wildly like an overturned beetle's, Harry with his left arm held up in the air to try and save the small glass ball from being smashed.

"The prophecy, give me the prophecy, Potter!" snarled Lucius Malfoy's voice in his ear, and Harry felt the tip of Malfoy's wand pressing hard between his ribs.

"No — get — off — me . . . Ron — catch it!"

Harry flung the prophecy across the floor, Ron spun himself around on his back and scooped the ball to his chest. Malfoy pointed the wand instead at Ron, but Harry jabbed his own wand back over his shoulder and yelled, " _Impedimenta!_ "

Malfoy was blasted off his back. As Harry scrambled up again he looked around and saw Malfoy smash into the dais on which Arthur and Bellatrix were now dueling, Sirius lying unconscious against a wall nearby. Malfoy aimed his wand at Harry and Ron again, but before he could draw breath to strike, Lupin had jumped between them.

"Harry, round up the others and GO!"

Harry seized Ron by the shoulder of his robes and lifted him bodily onto the first tier of stone steps. Ron's legs twitched and jerked and would not support his weight. Harry heaved again with all the strength he possessed and they climbed another step —

A spell hit the stone bench at Harry's heel. It crumbled away and he fell back to the step below: Ron sank to the ground, his legs still jerking and thrashing, and thrust the prophecy into his pocket.

"Come on!" said Harry desperately, hauling at Ron's robes. "Just try and push with your legs —"

He gave another stupendous heave and Ron's robes tore all along the left seam — the small spun-glass ball dropped from his pocket and before either of them could catch it, one of Ron's floundering feet kicked it. It flew some ten feet to their right and smashed on the step beneath them. As both of them stared at the place where it had broken, appalled at what had happened, a pearly-white figure with hugely magnified eyes rose into the air, unnoticed by any but them. Harry could see its mouth moving, but in all the crashes and screams and yells surrounding them, not one word of the prophecy could he hear. The figure stopped speaking and dissolved into nothingness.

"Harry, I'b sorry!" cried Ron, his face anguished as his legs continued to flounder, "I'b so sorry, Harry, I didn'd bean do —"

"It doesn't matter!" Harry shouted. "Just try and stand, let's get out of —"

" _Dubbledore!_ " said Ron, his sweaty face suddenly staring over Harry's shoulder.

"What?" Asked Harry.

"Oh, hang on. _Episkey_!" He said, pointing his wand at Ron's nose.

"DUMBLEDORE!"

Harry turned to look where Ron was staring. Directly above them, framed in the doorway from the Brain Room, stood Albus Dumbledore, his wand aloft, his face white and furious. Harry felt a kind of electric charge surge through every particle of his body — _they were saved_.

Dumbledore sped down the steps past Ron and Harry, who had no more thought of leaving. Dumbledore was already at the foot of the steps when the Death Eaters nearest realized he was there. There were yells; one of the Death Eaters ran for it, scrabbling like a monkey up the stone steps opposite. Dumbledore's wordless summoning spell pulled him back as easily and effortlessly as though he had hooked him with an invisible line, and was followed through by a wordless stunner.

Only one couple were still battling, apparently unaware of the new arrival. Harry saw Arthur duck Bellatrix's jet of red light: He had a grim expression on his face, devoting all of his attention to the spells flying between them. The second jet of light hit him squarely on the chest. His facial expression didn't change much, but his eyes widened in shock.

Ron struggled free from Harry, though he was unaware of doing so. Ron jumped down the steps again, pulling out his wand, as Dumbledore turned to the dais too.

It seemed to take Arthur an age to fall. His body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backward through the ragged veil hanging from the arch. . . .

And Ron saw the look of mingled fear and surprise on his father's haggard face as he fell through the ancient doorway and disappeared behind the veil, which fluttered for a moment as though in a high wind and then fell back into place.

Ron heard Bellatrix Lestrange's triumphant cry, but knew it meant nothing — Arthur had only just fallen through the archway, he would reappear from the other side any second. . . .

But Arthur did not reappear.

"DAD!" Ron yelled, "DAD!"

He had reached the floor, his breath coming in searing gasps. Arthur must be just behind the curtain, he, Ron, would pull him back out again. . . .

But as he reached the ground and sprinted toward the dais, Lupin grabbed Ron around the chest, holding him back.

"There's nothing you can do, Ron —"

"Get him, save him, he's only just gone through!"

"It's too late, Ron—"

"We can still reach him —"

Ron struggled hard and viciously, limbs flailing, but Lupin would not let go. . . .

"There's nothing you can do, Ron . . . nothing. . . . He's gone."

 **-0o0-**

"Where . . . Where am I?" were Arthur Weasley's words as he attempted to sit upright, wincing as he brought a hand to his head.

"You're here, of course! Where else could you be?" replied an unfamiliar, yet undeniably British accented voice.

"And where might _here_ be?" he asked, as he opened his eyes and looked around. His mouth hung open and his eyes greedily drunk in the sight of numerous strange and peculiar (and apparently muggle) contraptions that surrounded his bed and littered the room, before focusing on a black haired man in a waistcoat who appeared to be the person who answered his question.

"You're in my workshop. Well, Cobstone Windmill, to be more specific," the man replied, as he pulled a chair towards the bed, sitting on it before resting his head on clasped hands.

"But enough about that, who _are_ you? You're not from around here, I know that much. I'd have recognized you in a heartbeat!"

Arthur smiled slightly, the cheery disposition of the strange man putting him at ease.

"Oh, I'm dreadfully sorry. Where are my manners? My name's Arthur Weasley. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr . . . ?" he trailed off, uncertain of the stranger's name.

"Potts, Mr Weasley. Caractacus Potts."

* * *

 **I hope everyone enjoyed this short story! Leave a review if you:**

 **A) Liked this story**

 **B) Want this story to continue**

 **C) Noticed a mistake**

 **Chapter 2 is on the way due to popular demand.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow! I didn't expect so many reviews for the first chapter alone. I'm glad to see that heaps of people enjoyed it. Seeing as most people wanted to read more, I decided to write more! Ideally, I'd like to go off the original book version by Ian Fleming because it has more information and a better backstory for multiple characters, but I'll write this story based on Roald Dahl's film adaption in order to make writing easier.**

* * *

 **Style1234:** I liked this story and continue it, please? By the way, is this story going to be a time travel?

 **Eril'nor:** Maybe. Most probably, seeing as the events of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix don't occur at the same time.

* * *

 **JeanAndBilius:** Yes, liking this idea a lot!

 **Eril'nor:** Glad to see you like it!

* * *

 **crazyreader12:** Oh my gosh. I laughed so hard at the end of this, that was great. I love Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, and I can totally see Mr. Potts and Mr. Weasley getting along like a house on fire, so I greatly look forward to where you might take this story.

 **Eril'nor:** Like a house on fire? Don't you mean like a Burrow on fire? Regardless, thanks for your support.

* * *

 **Shamrock Holmes:** Interesting idea, would like to see more.

 **Eril'nor:** Glad you think so!

* * *

 **Topaz007:** Hey, this was really nice. No guesses though :p Continue this soon.

 **Eril'nor:** Hey, nice name! Thanks, and Caractacus Potts is one of the main characters in both the film and book "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang".

* * *

 **-0o0-**

"He hasn't gone!" Ron yelled.

He didn't believe it, he wouldn't believe it; still he fought Lupin with every bit of strength he had: Lupin did not understand, people hid behind that curtain, he had heard them whispering the first time he had entered the room — His dad was hiding, simply lurking out of sight —

"DAD!" he bellowed, "DAD!" "He can't come back, Ron," said Lupin, his voice breaking as he struggled to contain Ron. "He can't come back, because he's d —"

"HE — IS — NOT — DEAD!" roared Ron. "DAD!" There was movement going on around them, pointless bustling, the flashes of more spells. To Ron it was meaningless noise, the deflected curses flying past them did not matter, nothing mattered except that Lupin stopped pretending that his father, who was standing feet from them behind that old curtain, was _not_ going to emerge at any moment, wiping his forehead and bracing himself to reenter the battle —

Lupin dragged Ron away from the dais, Ron still staring at the archway, angry at his father now for keeping him waiting —

But some part of him realized, even as he fought to break free from Lupin, that his dad had never kept him waiting before. . . . Arthur had always managed to make time for his children, always listening to them and never ignoring them. . . . If his father wasn't reappearing out of that archway when Ron was yelling for him as though his life depended on it, the only possible explanation was that he could not come back. . . . That he really was . . .

Dumbledore had most of the remaining Death Eaters grouped in the middle of the room, and had tied them up with several lengths of rope, courtesy of the _Incarcerous_ charm. Mad-Eye Moody had crawled across the room to where Sirius lay and was attempting to revive him. Behind the dais there were still flashes of light, grunts, and cries — Kingsley had run forward to continue Arthur's duel with Bellatrix.

"Ron?" Harry had slid down the stone benches one by one to the place where Ron stood. Ron was no longer struggling against Lupin, although he maintained a precautionary grip on his arm nevertheless.

"Ron . . . I'm really sorry. . . ." said Harry. "I knew how much he meant to you. Heck, he was pretty close to a father figure for me. . . " Ron nodded.

"I think . . . I think we'll all miss him . . . He was a brave man, Ron. Very brave indeed."

Lupin turned away from the archway as he spoke. It sounded as though every word was causing him pain.

"Everyone else is back there," said Ron. "A brain attacked Neville but I think he's all right — and Hermione's unconscious, but we could feel a pulse —"

There was a loud bang and a yell from behind the dais. Harry saw Kingsley, yelling in pain, hit the ground. Bellatrix Lestrange turned tail and ran as Dumbledore whipped around. He aimed a spell at her but she deflected it. She was halfway up the steps now —

"Ron — no!" cried Lupin, but Ron had already ripped his arm from Lupin's slackened grip.

"SHE KILLED MY DAD!" bellowed Ron. "SHE KILLED HIM — I'LL KILL HER!"

And he was off, scrambling up the stone benches. People were shouting behind him but he did not care. The hem of Bellatrix's robes whipped out of sight ahead and they were back in the room where the brains were swimming. . . .

She aimed a curse over her shoulder. The tank rose into the air and tipped. Ron was deluged in the foul-smelling potion within. The brains slipped and slid over him and began spinning their long, colored tentacles, but he shouted, "Wingardium Leviosa!" and they flew into the air away from him. Slipping and sliding he ran on toward the door. He leapt over Luna, who was groaning on the floor, past Ginny, who said, "Ron — what — ?" past Neville, who giggled feebly, and Hermione, who was still unconscious. He wrenched open the door into the circular black hall and saw Bellatrix disappearing through a door on the other side of the room — beyond her was the corridor leading back to the lifts.

He ran, but she had slammed the door behind her and the walls had begun to rotate again. Once more he was surrounded by streaks of blue light from the whirling candelabra.

"Where's the exit?" he shouted desperately, as the wall rumbled to a halt again. "Bloody hell, I need the way out!"

The room seemed to have been waiting for him to ask. The door right behind him flew open, and the corridor toward the lifts stretched ahead of him, torch-lit and empty. He ran. . . .

He could hear a lift clattering ahead of him. He sprinted up the passageway, swung around the corner, and slammed his fist onto the button to call a second lift. It jangled and banged lower and lower; the grilles slid open and Ron dashed inside, now hammering the button marked Atrium. The doors slid shut and he was rising. . .

He forced his way out of the lift before the grilles were fully open and looked around. Bellatrix was almost at the telephone lift at the other end of the hall, but she looked back as he sprinted toward her, and aimed another spell at him. He dodged behind the Fountain of Magical Brethren; the spell zoomed past him and hit the wrought gold gates at the other end of the Atrium so that they rang like bells. There were no more footsteps. She had stopped running. He crouched behind the statues, listening.

He heard the _ding_ of a lift.

 **-0o0-**

"That's a clever thing to do." said the woman as she attempted to smooth her ruffled skirts while sitting on the seat of her motorcar. Said motorcar was stopped in the middle of the road. What had happened was rather simple.

As she was driving down the lane towards her home, two children had run across the road without looking. Naturally, she stopped to avoid them, however she was still given quite a jolt as the car stopped, resulting in her attempts to smooth down her pristine white dress.

"We're very sorry, miss." the small boy said, looking at his feet. His dark and dirty dungarees stood out in sharp contrast to his white shirt, which was also dirty. His pale blond hair was long, a messy mop with locks of hair drifting over his face. The girl's hair was a similar shade of blonde, and in not much better condition.

"I'm sure you are. Just look at my car. And look at the mess I'm in, too!" the woman said indignantly, straightening her wide brimmed hat.

"Oh, no. I think you're beautiful." said the small girl, who was outfitted in a small dress of beige and dark blue.

"And I like your car." chimed in the small boy.

"Well, you shouldn't be rushing across the road. You might have been killed. Anyway, why aren't you in school?" The woman paused for a second.

"It isn't a holiday, is it?" she asked, looking down at them from her motorcar.

"No, miss." said the boy, looking back up at her.

"Do you live around here?" she asked, hoping to speak to their parents and let them know how irresponsible their children were.

"Just down the road." piped up the boy.

"Well get into my car, then. I'm taking you home." the woman said.

"Just wait till Daddy hears we've been for a ride in a motor car!" the boy said.

"Yes!" cried the girl, with noticable excitement.

The children clambered into the motorcar, sitting shoulder to shoulder and looking at the the car with awe. A new experience for them, the woman assumed. As they drove down the lane, the woman asked the children's names.

"I'm Jemima." she replied.

"And I'm Jeremy." said the boy.

The woman considered them for a moment. Clearly they were related in some way, shape or form. Their facial structure and hair colour were far to similar for them to be cousins, so she settled on siblings.

"What's yours?" the girl, now known as Jemima, asked.

"Truly." replied the woman.

"That's a very pretty name." Jemima replied.

"Now, where is your house?" Truly asked. Judging by the state of their clothes they had to be from somewhere nearby; no-one could travel very far in such poor quality clothing.

"We don't live in a house," replied Jeremy

"We live in a castle on top of a hill." continued Jemima.

"Oh, a castle? I didn't know there were any castles around here." said Truly, amused and slightly suprised.

"Well, It isn't a castle exactly —" started Jemima

"That's what Daddy calls it! He says King Alfred used to live there hundreds of years ago." interrupted Jeremy, eager to let Truly know of their house's glorious history.

Truly smiled at him before looking back at the road. "And does your daddy know you aren't in school?" she asked to the children.

"He won't mind. He never does." Jemima said, looking up at Truly.

"Anyway, he's awfully busy." said Jeremy, content with looking at the scenery flashing by the motorcar. Perhaps she ought to speak to their father about this. Education is very important, after all.

"Is he?" Truly said aloud. "Well, he'll have to find time to see me, because I have a few things to say to him."

As the car approached the windmill, Truly slowed down slightly took the time to appreciate the scenery. From the top of the hill, she could see the entirety of the valley below, full of lush trees and fields of green grass that stretched nearly as far as the eye could see, with the nearly but not quite sky blue colour of the ocean glittering in the distance. Tilled fields were clearly divided, creating a pattern not dissimilar to those found on a patchwork blanket.

Facing forward, she observed the peculiar slanted track in front of the large, four bladed windmill before slowing to a halt at the gate to the property.

"Edison! Edison! Here boy! Come on!" cried the children with excitement. As Truly shut off the engine, the large white dog ran out of the property and leapt into the car, pleased wit the attention the children were giving him.

Jeremy looked over the fence. "That's Daddy over there!" he said.

"Hello!" he and Jemima chorused.

He was wearing an incredibly peculiar outfit. He had a pilot's cap and pair of goggles on his head, accompanied with a pilot's jacket, and appeared to be carrying a pair of ski poles. However, what made his outfit peculiar was the device on his back. It was a long, cylindrical, striped, and pointed tube. On either side of the tube were two pieces of metal that looked suspiciously like wings of a kind.

"Hello! You're just in time!" he called back, as he staggered forward to the base of the odd track Truly had observed before and stepped onto a small platform.

"What on earth is he up to?" Truly exclaimed.

"That's his latest invention!" said Jemima.

"Well, him and Uncle Arthur's, at least. He calls them rockets!" Jeremy said.

"Rockets?" asked Truly, raising her eyebrows and still confused by their father's odd choice of attire.

As the children looked on in awe, and Truly looked on in confusion, Caractacus Potts adjusted the goggles on his head and brought them down over his eyes before yelling "Stand back! Keep clear!"

As the rocket on his back ignited, Caractacus Potts was launched forwards at immense speeds, flying along and then up the ramp before being launched into the air, where he continued to accelerate vertically. As his children cheered him on and as Truly looked at him in shock, he performed a loop-the-loop before continuing the flight upwards.

"Does he know what he's doing?" Truly asked, concerned for his safety.

"Of course he does!" replied Jemima, slightly indignant that Truly would doubt her father's ability.

Suddenly, the rocket stopped, before starting up again a second later. Once, twice, three times the rocket spluttered, before stopping completely. With a yell, Caractacus fell from the air, falling at a steadily increasing speed.

* * *

 **Hey, my first cliffhanger!**

 **In future chapters, characters from the Harry Potter universe'll appear.** **Also, I might write an Omake or something of Gred and Forge meeting the incompetent spies ("And _what_ do we do in England?" "We play cricket!" "Ye-NO, you nincompoop!")**

 **Review if you have suggestions, notice a mistake, or just like the story so far in general.**

 **I'll probably stick up the next chapter in a month or so, but after that it'll be slower updates because I have my Level 3's to cope with.**


End file.
